I'm sorry, I can't be perfect
by BitterSweet3
Summary: GAH! I know, I'm sorry I keep starting new stories, but songfics are sooo fun to write. YEEP! So here it is, Jack, remembering his Father to the song 'Perfect' by 'Simple Plan'. Great song, you should go download it."Cause we lost it all, nothing lasts fo


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[I'm sorry, I can't be perfect]

[by: Bittersweet]

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, nor do I own the song. It's Simple Plan, Perfect. You should go download it before you read it! Hooray, oh, and I might do a series of these, to simple plan songs, so let me know what you think!

This is such a great song, and this story I feel really will hit close to home for some. So, I hope you enjoy it!

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[I'm sorry, I can't be perfect]

Hey dad, look at me

Think back and talk to me  
Did I grow up according to plan?  
Do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do?  
'Cuz it hurts when you disapprove all doing

Jack ran his hand through his sandy brown hair, sitting Indian style on the top bunk of his bed. He focused on his hands; he had his father's hands. He studied each crease, each line, each fingernail, and the dirt that lay under them. His hands were living proof that he was the son of his father, as much as dear old dad tried to deny it. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying his hardest to picture his father, but drawing blanks. He lay down hard on his bed, and stretched his arms underneath his pillow, pulling out an old cigar box he had once stolen from Race. 

He opened it lightly, breathing in the musty scent of tobacco and peppermint. With one hand, he reached in and pulled out a small picture, worn and frayed around the edges, and yellow in color. He fought the tears that he felt dwelling in his ducts. Trying to remember that last time he had seen his father. Concentrating on the last words that left his fathers mouth. "Git out of mah house you unruly trouble maker!" But no, he didn't fight it. He walked out of that house without looking back, until he heard later on that year that his Father had been exiled to jail.

A tear splashed the photograph, as he thought about how hard he tried to fit in with the other kids at school, but it just wasn't for him. He chose the life-style a Newise back in his hometown, but his father constantly put him down for being stupid, saying "There's no way in hell you can be my boy, you dumb fool". More tears followed, but he couldn't tell himself why.

  
_And now I try hard to make it  
I just want to make you proud  
I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
I can't pretend that  
I'm alright  
And you can't change me_

He learned how to read, he learned how to count, but school really wasn't for him. He thought that being a Newsie would make his Father proud, bringing some money to the household after his mother died. But no, his Father constantly shunned him, constantly told him what a mistake he was, constantly told him that he wasn't really his father.

Jack would just stare at him, stare at him and hold his breath until he was blue in the face. He tried everything, he just wanted to make his Dad happy, and he just wanted them to be the same happy family they were when his Mother was alive.

He missed her too, but his Father had left a bigger mark on him, made him the person he was. At first by showering him with love, and then as soon as Jack's Mother died, making him the strong person he is today. 

He was always going to be that unruly troublemaker, he couldn't help it. No matter where he was, who he was with, or whether or not it was his fault, he always managed to get himself into trouble. 

He had bottled up all of his emotions for to long, and he couldn't take it anymore. The tears continued to hit the photo, one after the other, _splash, splash splash._

'Cuz we lost it all   
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry   
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and   
We can't go back  
I'm sorry   
I can't be perfect

It was too late, everything that could have happened, did. Everything that Jack could have done, he didn't, and everything that his father could have done was less. Jack kept thinking to himself though, _what if, what if…_

What if he didn't get thrown out of this school, or that, what if he didn't cause so much trouble. He couldn't help but blame everything that happened to his decaying relationship with his father on himself. He couldn't even help but blame his father's being in jail on himself. _Like father like son._

He turned away from the photo, thinking of Mr. Jacobs. Father of his best friend, shadow, and his even his girlfriend (keep it in the family), and what a kind and loving man he was. There was even something about Mrs. Jacobs that reminded Jack about his own mother, from what he could remember at least. He remembered her sweet smell, her infectious laugh and how she used to tuck him in at night, telling him what a sweet little boy he was.

He used to constantly ask himself how his parents of all people ended up together, they seemed so different. But then, he remembered life before his mother died, a time when his father too loved him.

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I try not to think  
About the pain I feel inside  
Did you know you used to be my hero?  
All the days you spend with me  
Now seem so far away  
And it feels like you don't care anymore

He thought back to his childhood, kept thinking about when his mother was alive, and when his father was the smartest, strongest, and best father alive. He used to take him to see the flickers, ones that would always remind Jack whenever they were showing, always leaving a lump in his throat. 

The best, perhaps most memorable thing his father ever did for him and his mother, was he used to kidnap them before dawn, and take them to the Brooklyn Bridge just before the sun came up. They used to stop at the bakery on 34th Street, and get the rolls right out of the oven, so warm and sweet they would melt in your mouth. Jack closed his eyes, trying to remember that taste, the taste of happiness.

When they got to the bridge they used to waste their time by sitting on the ledge, vulnerable to falling over, but never did, Jack's dad would never let that happen. And as they watched the sun beginning to rise, they would hop down carelessly from the rocky ledge, and wait for the perfect moment. The perfect moment was when the sun cast a shadow on the bridge, allowing their faces to shine through perfectly if they leaned completely over the edge, screaming their hearts out. Something Jack held so very near and dear to his heart.

But those days were over, his father could no longer be his hero. Those memories were gone, his father didn't even want to see him again. Those memories seemed to be an eternity ago, something that could have easily taken place in a picture book.   
  
_And now I try hard to make it   
I just want to make you proud   
I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
I can't stand another fight  
And nothing's all right_

"He did love you," spoke a voice from the shaded doorway, scaring Jack half-to death.

"I.. ugh… thought I was alone.." said Jack, trying frantically to put away his picture and hide his tears.

"It's OK Jack, we all miss our parents, you deal however you want…" The figure stepped out of the shadow, Dutchy.

"I just wanted to make him proud…" said Jack, turning away from Dutchy, he could hear the twinge of pain in his voice. He knew Jack needed this time to himself, gave him a look of comfort and motioned a goodbye.

Jack appreciated his friend wanting to be there for him, and touched that Dutchy realized that he needed his space.

He just kept thinking, _maybe if he saw how far I've gotten being a Newsie, maybe he'd change his tune._ He was the leader of the Manhattan Newsies, he had led all of the children in New York on a strike that changed the world… and he had fallen in love.

_Be proud Dad, be proud._

Still searching for that undying approval that every child needs from their parents.

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Nothing's gonna change the things that you said  
Nothing's gonna make this right again  
Please don't turn your back  
I can't believe it's hard  
Just to talk to you  
'Cuz you don't understand

Nothing could change what happened, nothing could make it go away. It was something he would constantly have hanging over his head, a constant reminder of what a screw-up he was. Nothing could change what his father hollered at him the day he left home. 

Nothing could bring him back again, and erase time. 

**__**

Cuz we lost it all

Nothing lasts forever

I'm sorry

I can't be perfect

Now it's just too late

And we can't go back

I'm sorry

I can't be perfect

"Jack, come on we're leaving!" Screamed Mush from the bottom of the stairs.

He took the tattered photo, threw is back into the box and closed it up, leaving the smell of cigars and peppermints still lingering in his nostrils. He shoved the box under his pillow, hopped down and wiped his eyes completely dry, making sure any trace of tears was gone.

He grabbed his fathers red bandanna from around the bed post and tied it snugly around his neck, while picking his cowboy hat up from the floor, and putting it on. He looked in the mirror, strong and handsome, just like his Father.

He opened the door and trotted down the stairs quickly, smiling a goofy smile with no trace of sadness left on his face. 

Dutchy was sitting in a chair in the lobby, and when Jack caught his eye, he smiled at him and mouthed _thanks._

"Anytime…" smiled Dutchy with a wink.

"So, Jack, ready to hit Bottle Ally today?" smiled Mush, patting him on the back playfully with a grin from ear to ear. 

Jack was silent for a minute, "sure… let's get outa here."


End file.
